Last Stay

IV. Shadows and Memories

The laughter and the talking are getting louder—I need to go now! 

My bare feet bounce down the icy stairs and onto the sidewalk. I'm taking care to step where the bloody prints are to avoid making new ones. In seconds, my shuffling feet bring me under the shelter of the roofed area in front of my building. And after waving the fob in front of the door, I enter, dry my feet on the black rug and head for the stairwell.

Fortunately, I avoid meeting anyone on the way to my apartment. Once inside, I wander into the spare bedroom to look out the window. The couple who came around the corner is pointing at the bloodied snow under the glow of the street lights while looking around at the two buildings where the trail leads.

If anyone asks, I'll say they were there when I went outside.

But I really feel like I should shower again, even though the blood was mine—at least the stuff on my feet was. As I'm taking off my sweats to throw them into the washer, I take both phones out my pockets. And just before setting mine on the counter, I notice the time on the lock screen.

That can't be right. It's almost two-thirty.

I unlock my phone to see when the call from Angela came in, and it says eleven forty.

Was I really over there for almost three hours?

Then I remember that the other phone received a message while I was at Angela's. But when I try to unlock it to check when that text came in, it doesn't turn on. I squeeze the power button, and it flashes a low battery symbol before the screen goes black again.

Fuck it.

I leave both phones on the counter, head to the bathroom and hop into the shower. As the water washes over me, I try to make sense of what happened in Angela's apartment.

Nothing makes sense anymore. And sometimes, I feel like I'm losing my mind. And there's no instruction manual for what to do when your wife disappears. Shit like this shouldn't be happening when you're twenty-five.

Did I actually see her body on the bed? And I think there was something else too, but I can't remember. I just wish I knew that she was still—no—she's out there, and I can't give up yet.

I shut the water off and grab a towel before wandering into the laundry room. I slide on a clean pair of boxers, warm from the drier and run up to the loft to find a charger for that phone.

The bottom right drawer of the desk is basically a graveyard for charging cords that no longer have phones, so I take a few out.

One of these should work.

I go back downstairs and try them out. And after the fifth attempt, I find one that fits and plug the phone in next to the side table by the couch. I sink down into the couch and exhale.

There's a gripping tightness in my neck, and my shoulders feel like a massive weight is hanging from them. Rubbing both with my cold hands provides a brief relief, causing me to remember the ice packs in the freezer.

I jump up, head to the kitchen, open the freezer door and am immediately greeted by the stacks of strawberry ice cream Angela bought last week.

"Sorry I'm late," she said, walking through the door. "But I just started having a craving for ice cream. So I picked a few up on the way home."

"A few," I joked, looking at heavy bags in her hands. "Did you leave any at the store?"

"A few," she giggled. "Can I interest you in a bowl?"

"You know I don't really go for strawberry—"

"That's not what I asked," she interrupted, wearing a sly smirk.

I could feel a smile forming on my face. "You got me Rocky Road, didn't you?"

"Two pints, but only because I kinda like you."

"Only kinda?" I grinned.

"Maybe a little more than kinda," she planted a kiss on my lips and then looked up at me, smiling. "I'll get you a bowl."

"Are we still watching a chick flick later?" I asked as she opened the cutlery drawer.

Angela put a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth and said, "Hmmm, help me with the dishes, and we can watch one of your bro shows instead."

"Sold. And I'll see if I can find one with something that resembles a romantic subplot."

"How sweet," she said with a hint of sarcasm.

"That's why you married me," I winked.

"Well, that and your apartment has a better view."

"Anything else?" I pulled her towards me.

"There is one another...thing," she grinned.

Please be alive.

***

The cold from the ice pack starts to make my neck and shoulders go numb. I exhale and lean back on the couch while bringing a spoonful of strawberry ice cream up to my mouth.

For some reason, sitting here eating Angela's favourite ice cream makes me feel like she could walk through that door any minute now. I'd love to see the cute, surprised look on her face if she caught me eating her ice cream.

A man can dream.

I put on 10 Things I Hate About You and imagine her sitting next to me, smiling because I chose this movie. I secretly don't mind this movie—I'd watch it a thousand times just to have her cuddled up next to me again...

Near the end of the movie, my heavy eyes close, and in the darkness, I catch a glimpse of the shadowy figure that crept out from under Angela's bed. The memory of that ear-splitting growl sends a jolt through my body and shakes me awake.

What was that thing? Did I actually see it, or was it just a product of a tortured mind? It felt real...too real.

I lean forward on the couch, pressing my hand on my chest. My lungs feel like they were being crushed by something heavy. I inhale deeply and a rancid, burning smell fills my lungs, causing me to dry heave. But after bringing my arm up to my face, the awful smell slowly dissipates.

All at once, I remember the blood on my hands and break out in a cold sweat. I spring to my feet and stagger towards the kitchen.

Time for some more coffee. I can't fall asleep again. I'll just head upstairs and get some more work done until morning.

After throwing the coffee pod in the garbage, I walk over to the stairs with my steaming mug in hand. Half-way up, I hear the other phone ping on the side table in the living room. Initially, I don't think too much about it, and then it pings again, compelling me to go check it. So I turn around and make my way back to the living room.

I pick the phone up, and the notification on the screen reads: Call me when you get this. My thumb swipes across the bottom of the screen, unlocking it. I almost drop the phone and the mug as I stare at the phone in complete disbelief. An icy cold starts creeping through my fingers.

Why is there a picture of my wife on the background of the home screen?